


The Shore

by Misaya



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Drabble, Established Levi/Erwin Smith, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Oneshot, Vague, but also kind of a sequel, i don't want to tag too much because then it's too obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3948568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misaya/pseuds/Misaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shore says goodbye to the waves, and tries to reconcile the ebb and flow of 'here' and 'gone.'</p><p>While this can be read stand-alone, it is technically a sequel to 'The Waves.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwistedK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedK/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Waves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3939886) by [Misaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misaya/pseuds/Misaya). 



> Written to:
> 
>  
> 
> [I Remember You - July](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UuaQ-7hNiQ)
> 
>  
> 
> A prompt taken from 'I Dare You to Write' on Tumblr:  
> "I dare you to write an emotional scene without describing the emotion." Minor edits made for the purposes of adaptation. 
> 
> -M

He licks his lips and tastes sugar, the almost cloying sweetness of the toothpaste he'd used that morning to rinse the bitter taste of whiskey out of his mouth. Last night had been horrendous, and Erwin had spent the better part of last night tossing and turning in the bed that suddenly seemed far too empty and far too big, trying to reconcile to his empty arms the fact that Levi was missing, and would continue to remain that way. 

He'd gotten up sometime around three o'clock, and had gotten blind roaring drunk with the help of Macallan 25, a wedding gift from his father, who'd smiled and told him to save it for special occasions. 

And this occasion was certainly anything but ordinary. 

The place is packed to the rafters, each and every pew filled with people: coworkers, friends, relatives. They hold tissues to their noses, disguise red-rimmed eyes behind sunglasses and lowered eyelashes, and tell him how sorry they are for his loss. 

He is empty. 

One of Levi's roommates from college is standing up now, his hands white knuckled on the cherry wood of the pulpit, soft golden light filtering through dark hair as he chokes over his words. 

It never fails to surprise Erwin how much people grow apart, given enough time and space. Levi's roommate is describing him from how he was, a decade and a half ago, still drunk on cheap tequila and promises of a successful future, with a husband and 3 corgis and a penthouse in Manhattan. 

He is describing a Levi that Erwin hasn't seen in over seven years. He is describing a Levi whose optimism has not yet been dashed against the rocks of reality, a Levi who has not yet had the opportunity to feel the ebbing of the tide. 

Erwin licks his lips and tastes copper, biting down on his words and retorts and the bubble of hysterical laughter that threatens to choke him. 

He is full of it. 

It has to be a farce, at any moment Levi will sit up, open his eyes and ask why there are so many people, and, for that matter, so many nonbelievers, in church on a Saturday afternoon. It has to be that way, because this cannot possibly be the way their story ends. 

And then Levi's roommate is stepping down, and Erwin is being called up. Called up to attest, called up to confess, called up to deny. 

He's prepared a speech, has composed it just last night, fueled on whiskey and desperation, but the words seem to flee him now. No eloquent speeches or strings of words seem adequate enough to encapsulate Levi, and he thinks himself a fool for even trying. 

Erwin looks down at his hands, fingers clenched tight around the edges of the pulpit, scrabbling for words. They seem to understand, the people in the audience, and a collective gentle murmuring soothes over him, like waves breaking lightly on the shore of his consciousness. 

They have no idea. 

"Levi is my world." He pauses. No. That's not right. He is so much more than that, and he curses the rigidity of language. 

"He is my universe, my moon and my stars and my sun, my dreams and my hopes and my love."

Erwin licks his lips and tastes salt, wet and heavy against his tongue.

"Or, at least, he was."


End file.
